Cleve Jones reflects on past, future of LGBTQ advocacy

Longtime activist and winner of the 2017 Lambda Literary Award for his memoir, “When We Rise: My Life in the Movement,” Cleve Jones reflects on 1970’s San Francisco and working with Harvey Milk. And regarding the future of LGBTQ advocacy, he has a few suggestions.

Congratulations on your recent (and much deserved) Lambda Literary Award. When you accepted your award, you were quoted as saying, “I wrote this book because the LGBT movement saved my life, and I’m ready to keep on fighting.” Could you elaborate on that?

I begin and end my book by saying that the movement saved my life. That’s because it’s true. I was one of those frightened teenagers who was getting ready to commit suicide, until I learned about gay liberation and came to San Francisco, where I found a community and a home and a place in the movement. Many years later, when I was sick and dying of HIV/AIDS, again it was the movement that saved my life, when ACT UP stormed the NIH [National Institutes of Health] and the FDA and got the life-saving medications released in time to save me. I’m very grateful that I’ve been able to do this work for so long.

Harvey Milk was a huge influence, inspiring you into a life of advocacy. What or who inspires you today?

Well, I think there’s a lot of heroes out there and I’m excited to see the new generation of leaders emerge. But I’d like to say one thing about Harvey, now that he’s become so mythologized. I think it’s very important for folks to remember that Harvey was a real person. He was an ordinary guy and in his life, he experienced many of the challenges and defeats and humiliations that most of us endure. And I think it’s important for people to know that, in most respects, he was an ordinary guy and that his achievements are ones that we can all aspire to. He was a real guy and what he was able to accomplish, I think we can all try to accomplish.

While talking about the burgeoning advocacy of the gay and lesbian community in the ’70s, this is one of my favorite lines in the book: “There was a constant conflict as we struggled to celebrate our diversity while maintaining solidarity.” Now that we have added a few more letters to our community moniker, what are your thoughts about that statement now?

As LGBTQ people, the real issue is that we spend a lot of time talking about talking. We spend a lot of time talking about the words we use. But this is reflective of the deeper issue, which is that we are born into every type of human family that exists — we’re all colors, ethnicities, classes and political beliefs. And really, the only thing we have in common is our sexual orientation or gender identity and the subtle ways in which being different affects us. That’s always been a huge challenge for as long as LGBTQ people have tried to organize ourselves. We’ve always had to struggle with creating and building and maintaining solidarity. For me, this is particularly frustrating, because not only do I want to see solidarity within the LGBTQ community, I want to see solidarity among all of us. I guess I’m a little old-fashioned, I still believe in the larger movement for peace and social justice across the planet. I think the LGBTQ movement can play a special role in that, and I think that every generation has its own vocabulary to discuss that.

Cleve Jones (third from left), who once lived in Palm Springs, waves to someone in the audience in January during the Palm Springs International Festival. Jones' memoir, "When We Rise: My Life in the Movement," provided inspiration for the "When We Rise" miniseries that aired on ABC TV this year. It involved or involved (from left): actor Guy Pearce, actor Austin P. Mckenzie, Jones, director Gus Van Sant and Black. On the far right is Ken Jacobson of the festival.(Photo: Lani Garfield / Special to Desert Outlook)

Throughout the book you take us through so many challenges. What was the most difficult part of your life to revisit and write about?

Well, the most difficult part to live through and remember was the awful decade and a half when my friends were dying and there was no treatment. That was very, very difficult to live through, and to remember. I was also surprised by how difficult it was losing Harvey. It was so long ago, but I cried while I was writing that.

There’s a line in the book: “We have to be careful when we compare ourselves to other minorities like Jews or black people; there are similarities but also differences. But yes, we need to think of ourselves as a people. We’re more than a subculture. Or we could be.” With so much political unrest of late, where do you think we stand against that statement?

That line speaks to a time of great solidarity and the great migration, when people were leaving their hometowns and coming to places like San Francisco and Los Angeles, where the gayborhoods were getting created. It references a time when we were really focused on being ourselves as a distinct people and a real community, not just a subculture. In terms of the current climate, I think people need to be very clear that everything we have accomplished over the last half-century, could be wiped out in the blink of an eye. Some may see that as incorrect, but, history gives us too many examples of important progress being reversed. I believe that everything we’ve achieved hangs in the balance right now, and we need to be very strong and work in coalition with other communities and movements to defend our rights.

People love to argue so much about tactics. The minute any of us suggests a course of action, the chorus pops up to tell us why that idea will never work and why we shouldn’t bother. We need to be relentless and employ all of the tactics that are available to us — writing letters, marching and getting voters to register. And that is what I want to encourage people to do. I wish people would just focus on the unique contribution that they can bring.

You were the leader or involved in so many community game-changers — like your NAMES Project memorial quilt, the film “MILK” and numerous national marches, to name a few. Are there any new visions or projects in the works?

Here’s what I’m thinking now, the "gayborhoods" are going away. The reality is, whether you look at New York or San Francisco or West Hollywood, all of these areas that had high concentrations of gay-owned businesses and gay people living, are all being profoundly changed by gentrification and displacement. And this is not part of some normal repeating cycle, this is a new phenomenon.

The inner cities have been a haven for gay people and now those spaces are being claimed by the very rich, and the result of that, is that we are being displaced. Many young people roll their eyes at me and say, ‘Well, cities change.’ Yes, but we need to pay attention to the change because, when we lose the "gayborhoods," we lose a lot more than gay bars. We lose the political power, the cultural vitality and we lose the ability to provide the social services that are so necessary for our most vulnerable population — our kids, our seniors, our HIV-positive, our transgender. So, with the vanishing "gayborhoods," I think we need to look at building a social infrastructure that will sustain and strengthen us as we are dispersed in great numbers out into the suburbs.

So, I think we need to start looking at more economic issues. One thing that I’d really like to see is a national LGBTQ credit union, to help the youth and the elderly and gay small business owners. A credit union that would increase that solidarity among us, even if we’re no longer able to live in the same neighborhoods. So, we need to be looking at credit unions, housing cooperative associations, development corporations, these are things we need to be thinking about because the reality of housing costs [is] overwhelming.

Your book closes with this final sentence: “My generation is disappearing; I want the new generations to know what our lives were like, what we fought for, and what we won.” Now that you’ve shared the past (through your memoir),what advocacy advice would you give to our readers and/or future generations?

I hope everyone finds a way to contribute. And I hope they are as fortunate as I was, to find a way to contribute that also brings them happiness.

Now that you’ve completed this memoir, any plans for another book in your future?

Yes. Stay tuned. (Laughs) I’m Interested in writing a short book about activism—what works, what doesn’t work, how to be effective and how to move forward in this climate. It’s not what I was thinking I would do next, but what I find is in every interview and speech I give, the questions are always the same: What do we do? How can I help? What works and doesn’t work? How can I be an effective activist?